Daddy's Girl
by Exilo
Summary: He doesn't know why he protects her, why he fights for her, why he defends her, why he bleeds for her. Is it love, is it instinct, a remnant of his past, or simple programming? In the end, it matter not. He will always be there. Big Daddy & Little Sister


_Daddy's Girl_

He never slept, so he never dreamed in the way that most are familiar with, but at times his mind wandered and he saw things that weren't there, and that couldn't be explained. This phenomenon occurred when the Little Sister was safe in her little hiding place and he had no immediate purpose save to stand and wait for her to grow hungry and emerge, or to notice another Little Sister wandering around, looking for protection. But that never happened anymore. He hadn't seen another Little Sisters for a long time. The one he guarded now was the last, so there was no need to leave to search for others. When it was quiet, the only noise the shrieks of the Splicers, and those were far and faint, his mind wandered and he dreamed.

There were strange things when he dreamed, of little ones like the Little Sisters, but not the Little Sisters, so he couldn't understand their importance. He dreamed about sun and grass and breeze, though he didn't know what these things were called; yellow ball, green ground, invisible push. He dreamed of himself without armor or drill encased hand, but flesh skin like the Little Sister's, his Little Sister, eyes like his Little Sister's, and a touch as soft as his Little Sister's. But it was just a dream, and when his Little Sister emerged from her hiding place with an empty tummy, it was quickly forgotten, lost to the more important matters at hand.

She never slept without a mangled doll that superficially resembled her loyal protector. She hugged it tightly before returning it to the vent and climbing down, hanging from the edge of the vent until she felt the firm but gentle hands of the Big Daddy, and she let go. He set her down as he always did, and gave her a pat on the head. She walked over and hugged the Big Daddy, before he hoisted her close and began the long walk in search of ADAM.

He didn't understand the relationship he shared with the Little Sister. He didn't understand what drove him so fiercely to protect her, to bleed for her, to burn for her. Not duty, not need, not love, his simple mind didn't understand these things. But he knew he had to protect her, he knew he wanted to protect her, more than he wanted anything else. He smashed into an ornery Splicer and drove his spinning drill into its torso until its twitching stopped. "An angel!" the girl sang with her usual enthusiasm, peeking out from behind her noble guardian. The Little Sister skipped forward merrily with oversized syringe in undersized hand and removed the glowing Adam from the body before returning to the Big Daddy's side and touching a dainty hand to his face. He was as gentle with her as a mother was a newborn. He picked her up and cradled her close, holding her as she drank down the ADAM and rubbed her tummy, reveling in the pleasant feeling of full. Hunger sated she would return to her hiding place and sleep until the hunger took her again. And he would return to his dormant state and the dreams that he didn't understand.

He was aware of the man that entered the room, though the man must not have been aware of him, because he gave no semblance of recognition. It wasn't that strange. In the corner, not moving, it was easy to miss a creature even as large as the Big Daddy. And if the man proceeded on his way, there would be no problem. His Little Sister, hearing the man's heavy footsteps, popped tiny head out of the safety of her shadows, looking at the man, a little scared, a little curious. The man took hold of her by the wrist and dragged her into the open, throwing her against the floor. She gave a frightened, pained yelp, and curled into a fetal position, terrified. The man drew a wrench, patting the palm of his free hand several times as he approached, and he lifted it over his head to bring it down on the shivering Little Sister, who made no effort to flee or fight.

The Big Daddy smashed into the man with all his might, swinging massive arms and throwing him against a wall. He hit with a loud pop and crackle, a low wet noise, not unlike the noise the Splicers made when he crushed them under boot. The Big Daddy knew the man to still be alive, and drove his drill down, but the man rolled backwards, and the Big Daddy was momentarily occupied with freeing his drill from of the ground. The man was on his feet in a moment, pounding the Big Daddy furiously with the wrench, searching for a weak spot. The Big Daddy batted him away, and reclaimed his drill from the ground. The man drew his pistol and peppered the Big Daddy with several shots, and the guardian recoiled out of instinct, giving the man time to rise to his feet and continue shooting, opening hole after hole in the thick armor.

"Mr. Bubbles, no."

That was the Little Sister, his Little Sister. Her cries, her pain, her fears. The protector, lifting both arms in front of his more vulnerable chest and face, charged forward towards the man, who had taken a moment to reload. His mission was clear now, all he cared about was defending his Little Sister, protecting her, and he pressed forward despite how the bullets bit at his hide. When in range, he swung, and smashed the man away. He smacked against the wall again, popped again, and the Big Daddy took him by the leg and flung him away, far from the Little Sister, who had yet to move to somewhere safe.

The man shook his head, the heavy pounding of the Big Daddy's steps and low roars sounding his approaching death. He drew a syringe from his pocket and stabbed it into his forearm, cringing in pain, flexing his fingers, injecting the sickly fluid into him. His skin started turn to black, a swarm of bugs emerging from the rot and buzzing. He pointed to the Big Daddy, and the bugs obediently swarmed their quarry; biting, snapping, chewing. The Big Daddy stumbled, swinging his massive limbs in the hopes of swatting the small army away, forgetting his foe, forgetting his charge. The man pulled the shotgun from his back and shot, the buck punching into the Big Daddy's gut and knocking him onto his back. The man approached, shooting again, ejecting the spent shell and continuing forward. Over him now, the man pressed the muzzle directly into the Big Daddy's face.

There was the pop of a gunshot, and the man looked down in confusion at the blood that was slowly spreading over his shirt. He glared at it, touched it, glared at his fingers and the sickly crimson that covered them. He turned around to see the Little Sister, horrified, holding his dropped pistol in a trembling hand. She closed her eyes and squeezed again, shivering at the recoil. It was a wonder it didn't break her tiny body in half.

It was a long time before the Big Daddy could stand. There was pain, there was a creak of his armor and bones, but he managed. His Little Sister hadn't moved. She was still holding the pistol in front of her, though the man had yet to get back up, and the blood had only spread further over his clothes, soaking them. He'd stopped his groans; his chest no longer rose and fell with struggled breath. The Big Daddy waited until she lifted her gaze to him, and watched with fatherly joy as her face lit up. He extended a hand, old, worn fabric somehow still clinging to his massive, mutated limb. His Little Sister extended her hand to take it.

**My 20th fic; written, typed, edited and published in a single day, followed by a repost with some edits. This is much more fast paced than what i'm used to doing. Its also a tribute to the Big Daddies/ Little Sisters. I felt horrible after killing them, and i wished there was some way to show them i wasn't going to hurt the sisters. And please review.**


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